


it's your heart · it's alive · it's pumping blood

by calmbeforethestorm



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Explicit Language, GTA AU, Guns, M/M, Torture, brief reference of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmbeforethestorm/pseuds/calmbeforethestorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray can take nearly anything.</p>
<p>Though the bruises and stitches that'll come out of this (because he will come out of this, he just has to wait it out for his captors to get sloppy) will not be pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's your heart · it's alive · it's pumping blood

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone likes a good rescue fic, right? Idk I just love me some raywood. Title is from the song Pumpin' Blood (Franne Remix) by NONONO.
> 
> Thank you to the "major losers/coolest people ever" for checking over this for me <3

Ray can take nearly anything.

He can take every hit, kick, shot, cut, and blow to his body. Seeing a pool of his own blood is certainly not a good thing, but it’s not a concern. While his arms are incredibly tired from being strung up, there’s nothing he can do about it. Broken bones are nothing to him; the pain, though awful and would have any normal man screaming for mercy by now, is bearable. The bruises and stitches that will come out of this (because he will come out of this, he just has to wait it out for his captors to get sloppy) will not be pretty. These morons aren’t likely to kill him unless he either gives up the information they’re looking for, or find someone else with it. And Ray knows they won’t, because he already killed the only other person.

So he accepts it. Fighting back will do nothing and conserving his energy for when he actually has an opportunity to escape is important. All Ray does is count the seconds he’s been there for (it’s been about twenty five thousand, which is what, six or seven hours?) and he guesses it’ll be about a day until these guys begin to think they have full control and relax.

Idiots.

He barely winces (out of surprise rather than pain) when his tormentor slowly slices down his back, twisting and digging the blade in right at the end, and silently curses himself for showing such weakness. Ray Narvaez Junior doesn’t show weakness, and by damned he’s not going to have his reputation ruined by a small crew of trigger happy addicts.

“It’s starting to hurt, isn’t it?” A warm exhale against Ray’s ear makes him shiver internally, the smell of tobacco and vodka thick on the other man’s breath and it makes him a little sick. No one’s allowed to be this close to him, minus one, and for a moment Ray deeply desires to turn and take a vicious bite out of this freak. 

“Don’t you wish you could make this end? I know I do, I hate disfiguring your pretty skin so much. We know you’re responsible for picking up Ramsey’s new shipment, Narvaez, despite you not saying anything yet. There’s not many people that the man trusts, and we’ve been keeping eyes up all around the city. I want the same thing you want, kid, I want you to get out of here. But that won’t happen unless you give us something. It’s simple, tell us where the T.o.P is and all of this, it comes to an end.”

He shouldn’t say anything, Ray knows better. But sometimes, even he breaks his own rules. And it’s incredibly stupid, but worth it in a way.

With a smirk, he leans back slightly to look at the creep with a knife in Ray’s back, and chuckles, “For someone who’s got eyes all over the city, it seems pretty pathetic that you haven’t been able to find it yourself.”

Moments later, Ray decides he really should have kept his mouth shut after the guy stabs him in the thigh, straight to the bone. Yet he’s proud of the fact that he doesn’t even scream, and the look on some of the thugs’ faces read a mixture of awe and nervousness.

After that, they leave him alone for a while (another forty five hundred seconds, and Ray doesn’t try to do a conversion this time). Men shift in and out of the warehouse, and despite his blurred eyesight due to the lack of his glasses, he can make out what’s going on based on his other senses. The scent of salt water is a major indicator they’re at the docks, and a few boat horns confirm this later on. From the number of voices he’s heard, there’s likely seven, possibly eight different men but only half of them are armed. Ray makes a note to remember they have Russian accents, Geoff will want to know who is targeting the crew. He makes them skittish, and at least one of them has been flicking the safety off and on for a while (it makes Ray smile, especially when, he presumes, the guy whispers to another ‘Why the fuck is he smiling?’). 

Sadly, he loses track of the seconds once one of the thugs hit Ray in the head with the butt of their gun and Ray loses consciousness. When he wakes up, he can tell it’s dark out, and the disgusting breath of ‘Mr. Slicey’ is filling his nostrils once more.

“Wake up, Narvaez. Time to restart our conversation, and this time we have company!” 

His eyes stay partially closed and focused on his shoes, not interested in the words the man has to offer. The only company he could have brought with him are probably not very friendly, and another set of fists pounding into his flesh isn’t going to make him talk.

Because Ray can take nearly anything. Physical pain rarely makes him bat an eyelash. Psychological torture is laughable. Even threats of death do nothing to scare him (because Ray looks Death in the eye so often, it’ll be like meeting an old friend when it’s his time to go). 

In front of them, Ray can feel movement and the vibration as someone’s thrown to the ground, a low grumble following that makes Ray frown. He knows that voice...

The man clicked his tongue, roughly taking Ray’s chin and forcing him to look at the figure. “We found this bastard sneaking along the walls just outside, seemed familiar enough, even with the mask; figured hey--the Fake AH Crew seems like a crew that would consider each other family.”

Everyone has a breaking point. Even Achilles had had a weakness, and Ray is no different. There’s one thing that can breach Ray’s interior, one person that makes him vulnerable.

His name’s Ryan Haywood.

And he’s the man before Ray, hands tied in front of him, pushed onto his knees and has a seemingly broken nose, given the amount of blood stained down his shirt. Ray’s fairly certain the blood in his veins freezes when he sees Ryan’s face, panic coursing through his body as he curses Ryan for being so fucking stupid and trying to save him.

“So is it true, boy? Do you consider each other family?” Ray can feel the graze of a knife against his neck, pressing ever so slightly into his skin. “Look at him, Ray. You care about him don’t you?”

Something else is said in Russian, and suddenly one of the other men is grabbing Ryan's hair, tugging harshly to move him maybe a foot in front of Ray. Ryan makes no sound, instead moving his gaze to meet Ray’s. To him, it would be obvious to see the fear in Ray’s eyes. The fear of losing Ryan. How could Ryan have been so careless to get himself caught? But when Ray looks back, Ryan’s a blank slate. So many times, Ray’s been able to read those bright blue eyes, but this time they give away nothing. 

“Now, Ray. I want you to listen very very carefully to me right now, this is important.” The blade leaves from Ray’s throat as the man motioned the others to leave, walking his fingers down the youngest man’s shoulder before standing beside Ryan. “You’re going to tell me where Ramsey’s beloved new street drug is. Then, you’re going to call him, and lie about the shipment’s location, instead tell him another place while I get the T.o.P so we don’t have any interference. And what the hell, you’re going to fuck yourself on my cock like a cheap whore for the hours I had to spend on you. Then I let you and your friend go.”

Beside the man, Ryan let out a low growl as his eyes move away from Ray’s, furrowing in displeasure. This prompts a blow to the back of his head, and a large smirk across their torturer’s face.

“I’ve gotten more of a reaction out of him in a few minutes than you in the last sixteen hours, Narvaez.” An amused laugh follows, and Ray looks Ryan dead in the eye. He’s giving away information to be used against them freely, like fucking flyers at a job-fair. Brow creased, Ray barely words a ‘the fuck are you doing?’ to his partner.

Ryan simply winks at him.

A fucking wink.

And then fist is hitting jaw, over and over, as the man beats savagely at Ryan’s face, chuckling as he does so. Ray stops counting the number of blows after it reaches ten and turns away, flinching every time the slap of skin being pounded echoes through his ears. He can’t see Ryan get hurt, not because of him. 

“Stop...”

It’s a cracked whisper, and Ray’s a little shocked at how broken it sounds. How this slightly crazed, trigger-happy thief wormed his way so deeply into Ray’s heart, it was both the best and worst thing in the world. Before, Ray had been impenetrable (there was some sort of sex joke there). A night or two that didn’t mean anything, that was something Ray had been okay with. Falling in love hadn’t been the plan though. It had been the opposite of the plan. But love made a person do things they’d never have done before. And at that moment, it was the most unfavorable, horrific thing, controlling Ray’s actions and constricting his chest at the possibility of losing Ryan.

The man stops punching Ryan, who’s got blood from a cracked lip staining on top of older ones, and grins at Ray. “Willing to talk now, kid?”

“I... I can’t tell you.” He breathes out, “Just leave him alone, hurt me instead.”

“Oh, Ray. That’s not the answer I want. Now you’re just being unreasonable. It'll be your fault if your family gets hurt, if he gets killed. All you need to do is tell us and not a single finger will be laid on his handsome face."

“I don’t know! I don’t know where it is.” Ray lies, hoping he’s convincing with his begging, even though he knows it’s unlikely the man will listen anyways. “Someone was supposed to pick it up after me, I swear. Please, please don’t hurt him.”

For a moment, their captor pauses, chewing on the inside of his mouth as if considering Ray’s words. And Ray nearly sighs out in relief when the man shrugs and motions for Ryan to stand. Until, that is, the man takes the blade he’s holding and without warning slices out, leaving a bleeding gash on Ryan’s cheek. 

“Did you actually think I’d believe that?” He turns with a grin back at Ray, grabbing Ryan by the hair so his neck is exposed and presses the knife up against it. “I’m not as foolish as you think, kid. You’re lying through your teeth, and, well, I hate liars... I’ll give you one. last. chance. Just one, to answer truthfully.”

In all his time spent in the underground, not once had Ray ever given up a secret, never had screwed over a client or a boss. It was something that had given him a place on the hierarchy of Los Santos’ criminals. And personally, it was something he was proud of. But that record was about to be broken, broken for a man as crazy as himself (just on the opposite spectrum).

“Okay.”

The man doesn’t move the knife away from Ryan, but doesn’t push it any farther either.

“The location.”

“It’s... The airport.” Ray mumbles quietly, the last word bitter on his tongue.

The blade slowly lowers from Ryan’s neck, and Ray feels like he can breathe again.

“You’re going to need to be a bit more specific than that. Where in the airport?”

Ray begins to open his mouth, when the buzz of radio from one of the guards is followed by harsh yells and gunshots, and then hell breaks loose.

As the windows shatter, smoke grenades are tossed inside, and pops of guns firing fills the air, Ryan makes his move, running at their captor and tackling him, the knife scattering to the ground. Twisting his wrists, Ray tries to work the ropes off while Ryan’s exchanging blows on the man who’d doled out so many on him. Biting his lip, his thumb slips under the binding, cracking loudly as it breaks, but now one hand’s loose and he manages to reach for the blade.

When the ties are cut, the only thing Ray knows in that moment is gunfire, panicked shouting, and that he needs to get to Ryan. His arms are burning, and he doesn’t want to move them at all, but manages to slide the knife to his boyfriend, shouting with a hoarse voice his name. Despite the background noise, he must hear Ray because the next moment, he’s undoing his own ties and is then free to use both hands to viciously hit the man that had tortured Ray.

“Vagabond, Brownman, stay out of the crossfire!” The familiar voice of their boss shouts from outside and the sound of Michael’s machine gun can be easily heard spraying down through what Ray imagines to be the front of the building; he still doesn’t have his glasses and he’s fucked at long distance.

Ray knows he should be moving; should be looking for a weapon, or at least cover. Using what felt like the last of his energy to roll and crawl towards one of the gang members, dead on the ground but a mini gun beside him. He’s got no idea how much ammunition it has or how many enemies are left, but now at least he had something.

Pure instinct kicks in as Ray fires at the man about to raise his weapon. When he really looks, it’s the guy who’d been freaked out by him (and Ray flashes him a smile), before the gun already needs to be reloaded. Under his breath, he mutters out a curse before rifling through the pockets of the dead man beside him. Ray also curses when he realizes just how exposed he and Ryan still are, practically in the crossfire between the enemy and their friends.

"Ry-Ryan..." A coarse whisper escapes his lips, as Ray reaches outwards for his partner. He hates being this needy, but if he's honest he doesn't have the strength to push off the ground (but he will certainly never admit that out loud). Every time he moves, pain shoots through his leg, and he assumes his body has spent all the adrenaline it can by now.

Ryan continues to beat the shit out of the guy, breathing out curses and other threats, until Ray calls for him a little louder. Ray can see as his whole body freezes, turning to Ray with both rage and panic in his eyes, suddenly moving beside him in an instant. Without a second thought, he moves them behind a large crate, well covered and just out of the way that their crew wouldn’t accidentally shoot them. Ryan’s hands are strong, warm, and make him feel secure. They run all over Ray’s body, checking for injuries (gunshots are his main concern, but he just finds a lot broken bones instead) and mutters an apology each time Ray flinches. There isn’t any romance; no frenzied kisses or professions of love because they don’t need that, despite what feelings they have, it’s a work matter now.

As soon as Ryan’s certain Ray isn’t about to die, he goes straight back into his “Mad King” mentality, as Ray calls it when his narrowed eyes glint with fury, ready to take out any mother fucker stupid enough to shoot at him as he takes the weapon from Ray without even asking. 

However, most of the gunfire has stopped at this point; all the thugs either dead, or running for their lives.

Only a minute later, Ray can sort of see figures moving through the smoke and then hears Jack’s voice ring out, “We’re clear!”

It takes a second for Ryan to calm back down, the “bull” as Ray jokes, no longer seeing red and Ryan kneels down beside Ray, grabbing him gently to kiss his forehead and to take in his injuries, sighing in relief. Beneath him though, the younger man’s brow is furrowed and his lips pursed.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ray challenges, throwing his hands up in a confused manner but then hissing, instantly regretting the movement as pain shoots through him. “What the fuck were you thinking getting grabbed by them?”

His partner carefully picks him up, trying not to jostle Ray too quickly. Lindsay, Michael and Gavin continue to clear out the bodies to make sure no evidence of them being there will be found, while Ryan makes his way out and straight towards the crew vehicle. “I came to rescue you, obviously.”

“By getting yourself nearly sliced open by that psycho?”

“Hey, everything went according to plan. We killed the jerk off rival gang and saved your ass, something I’m very protective over.” Ryan chuckles, slightly smiling down at his boyfriend.

“I’ve never needed saving, Ryan.” He mutters, not responding to the joke, instead closing his eyes and leaning his head against the older man’s firm chest in exhaustion (so much for conserving his energy). “I would have gotten out of there, eventually.”

Ray doesn’t have to see to know the look Ryan gives him (arched eyebrows, pursed lips, a slight tilt of the head) in response.

“Alright fine, let me rephrase that. _I_ needed to make sure that you rescued yourself.” Ryan says, shaking his head a little but smiling. “Is your pride safe now?”

“...I can accept that.”

Despite his teasing, Ray knows how terrified Ryan was. The way he refuses to let Ray leave his arms, even when they’re inside the car with Jack and Geoff. How he calls Ray stupid for not just telling the thugs where the stash was in the first place. And the long presses of his lips against Ray’s temple over and over again are all confirmations of Ryan’s need to make sure he’s alive and going to be alright. 

And he will be; Ray Narvaez Junior will always be alright, as long as he has Ryan Haywood.


End file.
